Dancing With Death
by RiotPug
Summary: Matthew Williams, an 18-year-old boy has been put into a coma after an accident semi-caused by his brother, Alfred F. Jones. Will Matthew wake up, or will he be gone forever, leaving a grief-stricken family behind?
1. Chapter 1

Dancing with death

Chapter 1

An eerie silence filled the room that Alfred was sitting in. With his head in his hands, he stole a glance at the hospital bed.

Laying there was an oh-so-familiar person.

Matthew Williams.

His brother.

An occasional beep of the heart-rate monitor echoed, along with his quiet breathing, and Matthew's faint breaths.

Tears slipped down Alfred's cheeks as he reached forwards and grasped Matthew's hand in his own, squeezing the cold and pale fingers, expecting the Canadian's body to spring to life, and his eyes opening...

But no, Matthew Williams was in a coma. He had been in one for a year now.

Alfred used his other hand to wipe away the tears that had began to drip onto his worn jeans.

He let go of the hand and put both of his on his legs as two men shuffled into the room.

"He's not any better, is he?" One asked, a short British man with wheat-colored hair. Arthur.

Alfred shook his head.

"Mon ange..." The other breathed out, pulling a chair beside Alfred. His golden, shoulder-length locks fell into his face. The Frenchmen huffed sadly. Francis.

Alfred looked up at Arthur who had positioned himself behind his chair, "Arthur, when will he wake up?" He choked out grievously.

Arthur sighed, shaking his head, "I don't know, lad." He said truthfully. "I... hope he'll wake up soon." He glanced at his comatose adopted son.

Alfred looked back at Matthew.

Him slipping into a coma all started June 21st, when Matthew and Alfred were returning home from visiting a friend.

 _"Alfred, you know it's illegal to jaywalk." A blond teen with chin-length hair said uncertainly._

 _"Aww, Mattie! Stop being such a stickler." Another blond teen with shorter hair and a defiant cow-lick said, dragging his twin to the street._

 _"I'm not being a stickler, I'm being smart." Matthew huffed, glaring at Alfred._

 _"Whatever! Come on!" Alfred said, charging across the street, leaving the other to gape precariously._

 _Matthew hesitated and raced onto the street after Alfred._

 _Alfred, waiting on the other side of the street stared in horror as a car rushed towards his brother._

 _It all happened too fast._

 _Way too fast._

 _Alfred shook his brother's unmoving body. His head tilted limply, blood trickling from his mouth, a few scrapes lining his cheeks and jaw._

 _"Matthew!" He shouted, shuffling in his pocket for his phone. After retrieving it, he pressed the phone button and began dialling the emergency number, his fingers feeling numb as he struggled to type the few numbers without ease._

 _His ears drowned out the shouting, honking and gasping as he sobbed out his name, the address, and the problem._

 _He lowered the phone, his vision going blurry as tears spilt over his eyelids, slipping down his cheek, and staining into Mattie's clothes._

 _Sirens whirred closer and police officers and medics scurried over to him, and Alfred dumbly stood up, dazed._

 _He watched as Matthew was carried on to a stretcher, which was pushed and lifted into an ambulance._

 _A police officer leads him off of the road and questioned him. He replied robotically, to stricken with shock and grief. After the officer had given up on questioning him, Alfred dialled another number into his phone._

 _"Hello?" The voice said, a British accent clear._

 _"Arthur..." Alfred choked out._

 _"Alfred," Arthur's voice was apparent with surprise._

 _"It's Matthew! He's-He's been hit by a car, and I need a drive to the hospital!" He stifled a sob._

 _"WHAT!" Arthur barked, "Where are you, I'm going to pick you up. You better not be lying!"_

 _"I'm not!" Alfred told him the address, and soon a familiar car pulled up, a confused Arthur in the driver's seat, and a worried Francis in the passenger._

 _When they got to the hospital, they were told the news that Matthew was seriously injured, and after not waking for a month, the doctors concluded that Matthews Williams had fallen into a coma._

 _No one knew when he would wake up._

Alfred sighed.

"Oh mon Dieu, pourquoi cela est-il arrivé à mon cher Matthieu?" Francis said, clutching the bedside.

Alfred looked away guiltily, glancing at the window. Outside, people bustled around busily, and cars zoomed to and fro.

Trees swayed slightly, and people stopped to talk with friends, and some were waiting at bus stops, while others got into cars.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

The heart-rate monitor began to beat faster, causing the three men to glance expectantly at the comatose patient.

But nothing happened.

Until the monitor beeped faster until it stopped.

Nurses rushed into the room, shooing the family away.

"Matthew!" Arthur wailed reaching his arms as if with just his fingers, Matthew would wake up. Francis and Alfred stood there in disbelief, their jaws gaping open and a shocking sadness tearing through their hearts.

Commotion filled Matthew's hospital room as Nurses fussed with the patient, trying to bring the teen back to life.

But to no avail, their prayers had gone unanswered, and Matthew Williams was pronounced dead.


	2. Chapter 2

Dancing With Death

Chapter 2

Matthew wandered aimlessly around the vast black darkness, his footsteps making no sounds as he trotted to nowhere.

He has been exploring around this place randomly for what seemed like eternity, nothing but gloomy caliginosity surrounding him, following him, leading him.

He glanced at his arms, the slim, pale limb flexed as he wiggled his fingers.

He was the only color in this crepuscular pitch darkness.

He let out a sigh, but it was drowned out in the crushing silence, unheard by him and any other creatures or people that may be around.

Matthew continued on, his body growing tired with each step. He huffed defiantly, dragging himself forward. His legs felt heavy, and his eyes drooped cumbersomely.

He staggered, stumbling off track. He just needed to rest for a bit.

A few minutes of rest would be OK, right? Just a few minutes to sit down and catch his breath, to relax his numb feet and dead-esque legs.

But that wasn't an answer. Stopping meant death. Stopping meant sleeping forever. Stopping meant not seeing his family anymore.

Arthur, Francis, Alfred.

He wouldn't be able to cook with Papa, drink tea with dad, to playfully bump shoulders as he played a racing game with Alfred.

All of those happy moments would be gone, and so would he.

He let out a low chuckle.

He could hear it.

He could hear it.

He could feel it.

He could feel his knees buckling as he dropped to the ground, tears slipping down his cheeks. His hand reaching out towards a small slit of light.

His destination to life. To waking up. He was so close. He let out a loud sob, his shoulders shaking as his arms fell limp.

He could hear it.

He could hear them.

Their cheering, their chants... "Matthew!" "Matthieu!" "Mattie!"

With new determination, he stood up, surging forwards, unfaltering as his legs screamed at him to stop, pain coursing through his numb body. The slit of light grew bigger as he neared it, his eyes widening as he leaped into the light, his head feeling dizzy with relief, and he felt himself slip into sleep.

He let out a small laugh before darkness overtook him.

He had made it.

He had made it out.

He was going to wake up. He was going to see his family, his father, his papa, his brother, his friends.

 _His..._


	3. Chapter 3

Dancing With Death

Chapter 3

Arthur, Francis and Alfred sat in a waiting room after being lead away from Matthew.

The doctors had told them there was only the slightest chance Matthew would survive, and now they were trying all they could to bring him back.

Alfred twindled his thumbs, his head leaning on Arthur's shoulders. Francis, struggling to contain the tears that threatened to overflow, leaned on Arthur's other shoulder.

 _Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._

The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second seemed like an eternity before a relieved looking doctor trotted into the room.

"Arthur, Francis and Alfred?" The doctor said, looking at the only three men in the room, "I'm going to go straight to the point and say that your son, and brother, Matthew Williams has woken up. It's a miracle, really." The doctor looked at his clipboard.

"Mon ange! He's OK?" Francis said hurriedly, hopping out of the chair happily.

"Hmmm... I'm afraid he might have some difficulty walking, talking, remembering, all that stuff. I suggest taking it easy on Matthew incase he does not remember who you are. He seemed pretty confused and unfocused when we stabilized him," The doctor lead the family out of the room, taking them to a room labelled 399.

Laying there was a dazed-looking Matthew, his half-closed eyes were staring out the window.

"Ah, mon Matthieu?" Francis said cautiously.

"We'll leave and give you guys some privacy. Ask us for help if needed." The doctor said, hurrying the nurses out of the room and leaving the door slightly ajar.

Alfred slipped beside the bed, and Matthew's gaze turned to Alfred. "Ah, heya Mattie." Alfred waved, smiling.

Matthew's gaze flicked up and down Alfred, then to Arthur and Francis who were warily inching to the bedside.

Francis sat down in a seat, and grabbed Matthew's hand, squeezing it gently. "Mon fils, vous allez bien?"

Matthew opened his mouth as if to reply, but nothing came out.

Silence crushed down on them.

"Ooooh, this is all my fault, I'm very sorry yet again, Mattie! I didn't mean to put you into a coma, it was so long and slow and sad and-and- we had to skip your birthday and everyone was so sad and-and-and-" Alfred burst out, tears running down his cheeks. He burried his face into his heads guiltily.

"Alfred, lad, we went over this about a million times," Arthur scolded, "It's not your fault, and I'm sure Matthew thinks so too. You need to calm down and stop crying because he's alive. Sure, it might take a bit to get him back on track, but he's alive."

Alfred nodded, looking at Matthew who was dozing off, his eyes drooping tiredly.

"Perhaps we should leave him be?" Francis suggested hesitantly. "He must be confused about this whole thing, and when he wakes up we can help him understand."

Arthur nodded, herding Alfred out of the room with Francis trailing after him.

 _Please come back._ Matthew thought after they had left. _I want to see your face again. I want to see his._

 **A/N: Just to let you all now, DWD has a rollercoaster of a schedule. I might be posting twice a week, once a week, or maybe skip a week.**

 **School, Private life, and Internet likes to get in the way a lot, but I promise to keep on writing the story even if it kills me!**

 **And I'm sorry if the chapters aren't that long. Writers block. :0**

 **And thank you SO MUCH for reading, reviewing, and favoriting/following! It makes me so happy to see that people actually like my story.**

 **~RiotPug**


	4. Chapter 4

Dancing With Death

Chapter 4

As soon as they got out of the hospital, that's when Francis broke down.

"Aaah! Mon fils est bien! Il est bien! Je suis si heureux, je veux qu'il reste avec nous pour toujours! S'il vous plaît Arthur vous devez l'aider! Il doit être bien!" Francis wailed, clinging to Arthur.

"Francis, love, he's going to be alright. There is absolutely no need to worry." Arthur replied reassuringly, "It'll take time, but he'll be out of the hospital in no time and back in school."

Francis nodded like a child, holding Arthur's hand, and following him and Alfred into the car.

He opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat, buckling himself in.

"Alfred, lad, are you alright?" Arthur twisting in his seat, turning around to glance at a mopey Alfred.

Alfred nodded, a small smile cracking. "I'm just really glad he's OK..." He twindled his thumbs.

 _-The next day-_

"Your son Matthew has woken up from his year long coma, correct?"

"Yeah."

"We've run some tests on him, and come up with some health issues."

"...And what are the health issues, sir?"

"We've found that he has asthma, the reason as to how he got it is unknown. And also schizophrenia. Which is also unknown how he got it. If he suffered a head injury, that could be a reason, or due to him being in a coma for so long, and having no one with him. Though those are just theories, and he hasn't been awake along enough for us to know."

"...Is there anyway to fix him?"

"Yes, but it could take awhile, and the medications and other things could fail, but it's worth a try if we're going to save him."

"Alright. Thank you."

The door opened without a sound and three people slipped into the room.

"Bonjour, mon fils." Francis cooed, smiling sadly at his son who was staring out the window. Matthew turned to them, flexing his hand slightly. Matthew wiggled his fingers in greeting to them.

"Hey Mattie dude, how're ya feeling?" Alfred said staring hopefully at his hospitalized brother. He pulled a chair up and sat in it.

"Fine..." He said, casting his glance towards the ceiling.

"Ah! He responded!" Arthur leaning closer to the bed.

"What're ya looking at?" Alfred said, also looking at the ceiling.

"Hmm..." Matthew breathed out. "Th'm." His hand slid over his chest, his fingers linking together.

"Super cool, so, umm... You're really OK?" Alfred leaned into the bed, his elbows digging into the mattress, his chin in his hands.

"Matthew, love, who are the "them" you're talking about?" Arthur crossed his arms, his gaze scanning the ceiling.

Matthew hesitated, then shrugged.

Alfred and Francis looked at Arthur, confused.

"Mon cher, what do you mean?" Francis put his hand on his lover's shoulder.

"When Matthew replied to Alfred's question of "What are you looking at", he replied with "Them"," Arthur said impatiently.

"Who?" Alfred asked, poking Arthur's cheek.

Arthur slapped Alfred's hand away, "I don't know." He scowled.

"They're nobody..." Matthew's meek voice broke into their tiny squabble. He mumbled something else, too quiet to hear.

"... Alrighty! So dad, when can we break Mattie outta here?" Alfred looked hopefully up at Arthur, his eyes gleaming with positivity.

"It depends on how well Matthew is feeling, and how long it takes for him to go back to his normal self again." Arthur stated, raising a bushy eyebrow.

"He's totally OK right now! Look, he's his normal, quiet self!" Alfred whinned.

"Alfred, hush. I believe we should leave and let Matthew leave." Arthur said, patting Francis' arm."

"Oui, we should." Francis hummed, leaning over the bed to press a peck to Matthew's forehead.

"Au revoir, mon cher fils." Francis waved, following Arthur and Alfred to the door.

"See ya later, Mattie!" Alfred hooted.

"Yes, we'll visit you tomorrow. Goodbye." Arthur finished.

They left the room, closing the door with a soft click, the tapping of their shoes fading into the distance as they headed off.

"They're leaving me again..." Matthew uttered out, his muscles tightening and his body tensing. "Please don't leave me with _them_..."


	5. Chapter 5

Dancing With Death

Chapter 5

 _You're alone._ A haunting voice hissed in Matthew's ear.

"Am I?" Matthew pondered out loud, his head leaning comfortably against the pillow, his fingers flexing, his nails dragging up and down across the bed's blanket. His tangled hair folded around his cheeks.

 _You are._

"But you're here." Matthew whispered back, his voice tired and loose.

 _But I am you. I'm apart of you._

"Oh."

 _Disappear. You must disappear._ It shrilled, and Matthew could feel it's claws running down his cheeks. Tempting.

"Why?" Matthew stared at the ceiling.

 _Nobody!_ It cawed like a raven, it's claws digging into the delicate skin on his cheek. _Nobody wants you here, you're just a burden! You must disappear now!_

"..." Matthew hummed in reply, his violet-coloured eyes staring at his wiggling toes, hidden underneath the blanket.

 _Be gone..._

Matthew pulled the covers off, his glassy eyes flicking across the dark room. The only way he could tell where the door was the light underneath it. He took a few shaky steps forwards, his knees threatening to buckle. He leaned against the wall for support, his hand reaching out to grasp the door handle. Almost. He limped forwards, his fingers tightening around the smooth, cold metal. He pulled down, opening the door. It creaked slightly, and he opened it fully, stepping away to reveal a bright hallway.

He staggered out of his room, glancing around. Around the corner was a nurses station. He headed that way.

He limped down the hallway, his pale feet slapping quietly against the polished stone tiles. The rhythmic sound soothed him, his tired eyes drooping.

A nurse saw him, her eyes lighting with confusion, "Matthew, what are you doing up this late?"

"Disappear..." Matthew breathed out.

The nurse's gaze followed him as he stumbled off.

He saw a window in a lounge room, no one was there. Perfect.

"Disappear..." He hooted louder, his arms raising, his posture matching a zombie's. The hospital gown swished along his legs, tickling them.

He passed yet another nurse. He picked up the pace, running. He neared the window, and his arms gripped at the latch that would open it. Open the window. Remove the screen. Climb through. Fall. It was good that he was on the fourth floor.

"No!" A nurse screamed, and the two nurses ran at him, grabbing his arms and pulling him back.

One, for some reason, had a syringe. The needle poked into his skin, causing Matthew to holler.

 _Failure!_ The demon screeched, _Failure! You failed me, you failed us! You despicable being._

"I am not!" Matthew wailed, "I did not fail you!"

"Mr. Williams, please calm down." A brown-haired nurse said, holding tightly to his arm.

Matthew's legs wobbled, and he fell to his knees, "I'm... Not a failure..." Tears ran down his cheeks.

 _ **Failure**_

"Don't you think that it's odd that just because of a car accident, Matthew fell into a coma for a year?" Arthur rose an eyebrow, sipping his tea, "Usually someone only stays asleep for a few days, or a week. Or rarely a month."

Francis, who was moping on the couch while watching, for some reason, Sex in the City, glanced at Arthur, "Mon lapin, just be glad he's ok." Francis leaned down, resting his head on the arm of the chair, and kicking his legs on the other arm.

"Get your feet of the couch!" Arthur snapped, smacking at Francis' feet, causing the frenchmen to chuckle. "I mean it, frog."

"Oooh, so feisty!" Francis cooed, leaning up and pecking the brit's nose.

Arthur's face heated up, red flushing across his cheeks. He put his tea down.

Francis wrapped his arms around his lover, pulling Arthur on top of him. Francis pursed his lips and pressed a kiss to Arthur's lips.

Arthur sunk into Francis, kissing him back passionately.

Alfred watched, standing in the kitchen. His face twisted in disgust and he poured himself a glass of milk, drinking it while the two lovebirds made out on the couch. Oh god, the sounds. He put his now empty glass on the counter, and as quietly as he could, snuck upstairs, the floorboards creaking slightly under his weight. He breathed with relief as soon as he reached his room, closing the door and seating himself on his bed.

He rested his back against the board of the bed, grabbing his phone from the bedside table.

 _Yeah, it is pretty weird that Mattie was out for that long..._ Alfred thought, his fingers tapping the screen as he flicked through text messages between him and Matthew.

 _1:03 pm: hey dude wanna go 2the park 2 day?_

 _1:03 pm, Mattie: Sure. Are we going to bring anyone?_

 _1:04 pm: haha nope only us lol_

 _1:04 pm, Mattie: Alright. What time?_

 _1:05 pm: at 6 ok._

 _1:06 pm, Mattie: Sounds like a plan._

 _1:06 pm, Mattie: But how long are we going to stay there?_

 _1:08 pm: 6 hours_

 _1:09 pm, Mattie: How about 2 hours._

 _1:09 pm: fiiiine, mr boring pants._

Alfred huffed. Guilt washing over him yet again. This was before Mattie had fallen comatose. Alfred turned his phone off, placing it back on the table. He sighed. "I'm going out..." He mumbled to himself, grabbing a sweater off of his desk chair, and slipped it on. He scurried down the stairs. "I'm going out for a waaaaalk!" He called out to his dads, earning a muffled "OK!" In response. Slipping his shoes on, he quickly left the house, closing the door behind him.

Alfred kicked a rock, watching as it skitted away, flicking dust in it's wake.

He was sucked out of his trance when a voice called out.

"Alfred!"


End file.
